Depression
by Bucken-Berry
Summary: They had a love neither could live without. Mukada/Alvarez Character Death


Disclaimer: don't own

Sister Pete observes Ray carefully, and doesn't like what she sees. His movements are apathetic, lethargic, and sluggish; his voice is practically emotionless- flatter than a soda that's been open for a year. There isn't any enthusiasm in his eyes, and his face is lined with depression and anguish.

He goes through his preistly duties, but she strongly suspects he doesn't even believe in God anymore. She understands why- so many terrible things have happened to him, and now this... she suspects that if she were in Ray's position, she would doubt Him as well.

The riot was terrible. The bus crash was tragic. The fire was traumatic.

Miguel Alvarez's death? Catastrophic. Even more so because Ray was quite possibly the only one who missed him.

_She'd hated having to be the bearer of bad news, but they'd all agreed it would be gentler on him. So she'd taken a deep breath, walked up to him, and told him to sit down._

_"Ray, I'm really sorry, but Miguel... Ray, he committed suicide."_

_The look on Ray's face broke her heart like nothing else could- not even the news of the bus crash did this to her. It tore at her heart strings, seeing the agony flash across Ray's face._

_"How?" It was a minute croak. His voice cracked from tears that are already starting to fall._

_"He hung himself in solitary."_

_Rage flashed across his features. "I told them! I told the guards that he would do that!" He wailed. He buried his face in his hands. Sister Pete, unsure what comfort to offer, had simply set a hand on his shoulder._

She watches him hand eucharist to a prisoner. His words sound mechanical and forced. His energy is gone, all of it. The only thing he has left are his memories of Miguel.

_She was touched by the speech Ray gave at Miguel's memorial. Without glossing over his crimes, he told of how good Miguel was. He told of Miguel's struggles and triumphs, his successes and failures._

_He lead a prayer for Miguel and his soul. And then the memorial was over. Immediately afterwards, she found him in his office, clutching a cross, looking deeply disturbed._

_"Ray?" She called gently from the door. Ray looked at her with wet eyes._

_"Sister Pete, Miguel's going to hell, but he doesn't deserve it. Those things weren't his fault!" The thought of Miguel being damned eternally made Ray look even more agonized- she didn't think it was possible. But it was._

_"If they weren't Miguel's fault, Ray, than God won't send him to hell." She whispered soothingly._

_Ray shook his head. "You don't get it. God already sent Miguel there, by putting him here in Oz! I don't think the real hell compares."_

_For once, she truly couldn't come up with something to reassure him. She set a hand on Ray's shoulder again and left without another word._

She sees Ray talking to a prisoner. The prisoner nods, and a slight smile crosses Ray's features. She doesn't know what just happened, but she doesn't like it.

Ray sighs in relief when the prisoner walks in to his office. "You have it?"

The prisoner nods. "Right here."

He pulls out a sharp knife. Ray almost smiles, but it's more of a grimace. He hands the prisoner some money and he leaves Ray alone.

He sets the knife against his throat, remembering when it was Miguel's knife that rested there. He decides not to cut his jugular- it's a little too fast. He wants to feel his death.

He touches his chest. He wishes he could have felt Miguel's hands there. Just once.

Three deep breaths. He pushes the knife in quickly, and can't help the small gasp of pain. He sinks down, using the wall for balance, until he's sitting down awkwardly.

His awareness begins dimming. The blood flow is much more than he thought it would be. He vaguely hears a feminine voice calling out to him.

She knows she's too late. A jolt of shock and sorrow goes through her, but she isn't as shocked as she might have been under other circumstances.

She sits next to him, pulls the knife out and tries in vain to staunch the blood flow.

"Why would you do this, Ray?" She asks sadly. They both already know the answer, which is just as well, because the answer will never be spoken aloud.

Ray takes one final breath and goes limp. She cries softly before calling McManus. She can't help but notice how broken Ray looks.

But he also looks relieved, because he no longer has to live without his beloved. Miguel and Ray shared a unique kind of love- one that neither could live without.

Love that they both died for.


End file.
